


The Grumpiest Prime

by Sophisticated_Adult



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, M/M, Some Swearing, and predictable, second chapter added because I'm weak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-19
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-08-23 09:12:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8322238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sophisticated_Adult/pseuds/Sophisticated_Adult
Summary: There's a lot of bullshit that Springer can just sort of quietly accept and get on with his job.He is absolutely not going to accept 'Springimus Prime.'A look down a different leg of the Trousers of Time.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A Prime that can turn into two things?! Nerf this overpowered bullshit.

So, he was Prime now. Okay. He could deal with that. He thought it was terribly dumb, and it was almost excruciating that no-one listened when he kept telling them how dumb it was, how dumb _he_ was, but he could put up with it.

He could not, _would not_ put up with 'Springimus Prime.'

“Seriously, make that my first edict,” he'd told Magnus. “Primely orders, whatever you call them. No-one calls me that, ever.” His commander-turned-subordinate hadn't seemed pleased, but Springer had at least thrown him a bone in that 'Prime' or even 'Springer Prime' was fine for, like, official diplomacy stuff. But he had to put his foot down somewhere, and this was it. If anything was going to give Hot Rod a leg up in their eternal back-and-forth, it was the fact that he wanted to die of embarrassment every time he heard someone say it.

Out of all of them, what he thought of as 'his' group – him, Magnus, Kup, Arcee, Hot Rod and Blurr, with Roadbuster shoving his way in lately as well – he'd known Magnus the longest, and tended to agree with him on most things. Which was why it hurt that first night, during what amounted to a temper tantrum that _no-one was goddamn listening to him_ , when Magnus just got a sort of sad look on his face and told him, “the people need their Prime.”

 _No,_ he'd snapped back, _they need a leader, not some blockhead that fell down a hole and managed not to get killed._ You didn't pick out a random grunt and tell them they were the head of the whole army. Optimus Prime had chosen Ultra Magnus for a reason. Just because he hadn't gotten the glowy lightshow didn't mean anything, they could probably get Jazz and Bumblebee to set something up-

Magnus' expression had stopped him mid-sentence.

He'd simmered down, somewhat, since then. There was too much to _do_ to whine about it. There was a planet to run and rebuild, trade to set up and bargain for, peace deals and strategic alliances. Unicron was their evil planet-eating god, after all, and there were a lot of ruffled feathers to settle. And there was Galvatron.

So far, the Decepticons had been quiet. While Springer would like nothing more than to hunt them down and wipe them out when they were at their weakest, there was no _time_. Cybertron was suddenly a player on the inter-planetary political stage again, however weak they were, and they needed as many allies as they could get before some warrior race swooped in for some easy pickings. Springer sure as hell hadn't been built to be a damn _diplomat_ , but too bad, kid, now get out there and pretend to be happy. For the people.

Sometimes Springer thought that 'the people' could go and fuck themselves.

It turned out that, as far as the diplomacy stuff went, his trump card was actually Hot Rod. He was small and chatty and brightly coloured and easy to like and hard to take as a serious threat when he was beaming at you and telling you how cool his friends were. No-one had said anything when Springer started requesting him at all the fancy events, and probably no-one ever would. He was a nice reminder that maybe everything wasn't total bullshit after all. Same old Hot Rod, same old Springer, right? Some days he could almost believe it.

“Knock knock.”

Springer groaned. Speak of the devil.

“Heya.” Roddy peeked his head in, grinned, and scuttled in like he was breaking a rule and expecting to face the wrath of Magnus at any moment.

“What's up?” Springer asked, suspicious as Roddy clicked the door shut. And that was another thing, he had an _office_ now. Guys like him didn't have offices, they stood in them and took their orders.

Whatever. There was a distraction in front of him and right now Springer would take anything short of a direct invasion.

“I was just wondering,” Roddy said, looking uncharacteristically nervous. “For this Grand Ceremony thing coming up. You've got me down for it, but maybe, uh, you wanna take 'Cee or Roadbuster. Maybe even Magnus. Not me.”

Springer stared at him. “What?” Hot Rod's optics shifted down and left, refusing to meet his gaze. “Roddy, I don't have time for this stuff. Why don't you want to go?”

“You know, the...couples thing.” At Springer's blank look, he continued: “didn't anyone tell you? Kup told me. The, uh, Mistivs, are all about, like, vows to your partner, and stuff, as a way to prove you're trustworthy, because you wouldn't betray, um, your...beloved.” He trailed off into the last word miserably. “So. Not me.”

Ah. A real time for Leadership was at hand. Never mind that if someone _had_ told him, Springer probably would have picked Arcee for this. But a combination of Roddy's downcast face and the fact that his best friend had already eliminated himself ignited a stubbornness in Springer that burned brighter than any Matrix-fire.

“No. Screw that. I picked you already, right? They can deal with it.”

“Seriously?” Hot Rod boggled at him, clearly not having expected this. “I'm giving this to you, dude,” he insisted, waving his arms for emphasis.

“Yeah, I'm giving it back.” Springer folded his hands behind his head and leaned back in his too-fancy chair. “I'm Prime, I say what goes. And I say we'll be the best damn couple on the night. Uh, unless you don't want to,” he added, wincing internally at how dumb he was for missing that maybe Roddy didn't want to do this in the first place, but -

But Roddy's face immediately brightened to dispel that idea. “Wow, really? I just figured that no-one'd told you yet. Man. D'you think I could do with a touch-up? I've been thinking about glitter.”

“Sure.” Springer leaned forward, invested now. “Fucking dazzle them.”

“Language!” Roddy laughed. “But yeah, I'm totally gonna. I bet I can get Sunny to do it, too. Thanks, Spring, I appreciate it.”

The door opened, shut. Springer hadn't felt such self-satisfaction in days. Job well done, and no-one had had to call him 'Springimus' while they were at it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had this floating around in my WIPs for literal months and was looking over it today and was like 'nah, it's fine, just post the thing.' Here is thing.

Galvatron's optics burned like banked coalfire. The effect might have been scary in darkness, but they'd actually fitted the lights up in Shockwave's old cells, so Galvatron wasn't so much glowering and intimidating as he was shining bright purple. Hot Rod was a little impressed, to be honest. On Cybertron there was so much to do that, apart from the most fastidious Autobots (mostly just him and Sunstreaker, really), scuff and wear was starting to show on most of them. Galvatron gleamed like he'd been polished only an hour ago. Maybe he had. It was kind of funny to imagine.

Well. He wasn't here to get glared at all day. Hot Rod rocked back on his heels.

"Hi. My name's Hot Rod."

Silence. Glare.

Well, he'd tried.

"I know you." Galvatron spoke suddenly, looking him up and down slowly. Not like there was anything else to look at. Bare emptiness had to be better than whatever else they'd found on the lower levels, though; Springer hadn't let him down after a certain point, with an expression that wasn't to be argued with. Locking his gaze, Galvatron continued: "You're Prime's favourite."

"Wha - _wow_. Wow. Okay. That's - that's not true at all." Sputtering laughter escaped despite his best efforts. "Wow, I don't know where or how you got that idea, buddy, but, uh, no. No, I'm not."

 _You don't need to be so dramatic about it,_ Springer grumbled into their comm link. A minor miracle from Perceptor, set up special just for this, still crackling and fritzy from the amount of jammers and disruptors around the cell.

 _Sorry, just - wasn't expecting it,_ Roddy quickly replied. Wow, was someone off-track. He coughed. "We didn't come here to talk about me. So, uh. Are you evil, crazy, misguided, or some terrible combination of the above?"

Silence. But this time those furnace-optics were staring at him like Galvatron couldn't quite believe what he'd heard. Roddy grinned and tapped his chest. "What? There's a reason Springer picks me for the talky stuff. Got a knack for it. Also, I'm adorable."

 _Roddy -_ Springer warned, but Hot Rod wasn't scared. Magnus was right outside; plus, Springer, Blaster and a bunch of others were all crowded around the viewscreen to the cell, just waiting to swoop in to the rescue. If anything, he was flying high, feeling the rush of doing something _really stupid_ that, nevertheless, he had a feeling was going to work.

Because he couldn't help but feel that no-one ever actually _talked_ to Galvatron before. He'd just kind of been thrown into things head-first and told to go dominate the universe. Maybe he didn't really want to. The way he was staring, it looked like the option of just talking had simply never crossed his mind.

"None of the above," Galvatron said finally. "I am what I am, but I am more than as I was made."

"OK. Cool. So am I, probably. So, maybe you don't actually want to kill everyone, right?" Roddy looked at him hopefully. Galvatron met his gaze, considering.

"If they stay out of my way."

"Bzzt. Wrong answer. But, we've made progress! You haven't even tried to kill me yet!" Roddy beamed. He just needed time. He'd actually managed to convince Springer to let him do this, to trust him that maybe his stupid idea would work, and it _would_ work. Eventually. "Well, I think that's enough for today. But I'll see you again tomorrow!" A jaunty wave, and he strode out feeling like a hero. Magnus nodded at him slightly - he was definitely impressed.

_How was that,_ he crowed over the comms.

Springer's voice was a warm chuckle in his audials: _Impressive. He actually spoke to you. Good job, Roddy._

That was all he needed to hear.

\---

"Board games," Hot Rod said suddenly. "Everyone likes board games."

"What - no, Roddy, I am not letting you play Monopoly with Galvatron."

"It was going well!" He protested. He'd only managed a few 'Friendship Sessions' with Galavatron before Cyclonus managed to beg-slash-bargain enough deals and promises for his release and it felt like they were back at square one, except now it seemed like the Decepticons mysteriously avoided Hot Rod at all costs. "And Monopoly was intentionally designed to be boring and terrible, thanks, I'm not an idiot. I need something simple and easy that he can win at and feel good."

"Ask Danny what games five year olds play, that sounds about right."

"Hey, he's - it's not his fault." But, Roddy noted, Springer's objection changed to insulting agreement, and he was going to run with that as far as he could. "But yeah, I'll ask." He backed out of the room before Springer could realise his mistake and he still had _technical_ permission - the best kind of permission.

He was determined that this would work. The answer to the Great War was right _there._ It was all going to be sunshine and rainbows, never mind that he'd never seen a rainbow before.

 _Hey, Cyclonus, you there?_ He asked over the special Diplomacy-With-A-Capital-D comm channel that had been set up between them after Ultra Magnus spent hours locked in legal combat with all kinds of clauses and precautions that only mostly didn't get paid attention to much. _Well, I'll just leave a message. Uh, just ask your boss If he wants to, like, hang out some time? You can come if you want, I've got a bunch of stuff that's got options for more players. So, I guess I'll speak to you later? Bye._

Not his most eloquent moment. But he didn't get picked for this stuff for eloquence - you didn't need to be all fancy to genuinely mean it when you went 'wow, tell me more!' to the alien diplomat who was telling you all about their culture, even if you didn't really understand the concepts and were probably misinterpreting the hand gestures. That had been an...interesting night, but Magnus and Springer were mostly able to smooth things over. He'd gotten a card last year, so he'd done _something_ right - it turned out to be poetry after he'd run it through a translator. He still didn't understand it even in plain Cybertronian, but it was flattering nonetheless.

That was how he operated, with what Kup called 'gut feelings' - just stuff you knew was right, even if others thought it was dumb or wrong. For the most part, it worked. He didn't see why it would just _stop_ working all of a sudden, right when he needed it most.

He walked with a bounce in his step, feeling a familiar rush, like a warm glow filling his spark and flowing to the rest of his body. The future was bright. He'd make it that way. Then Springer wouldn't have to worry all the time. Or at least, he amended, not as much. There was still so much to do.

If he could do one thing with his life, he wanted this to be it.


End file.
